


An Unlikely Pair

by DarkReyna16



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Zutara, from the "Must I Do Everything Myself?" collection, self-indulgent nonsense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 06:51:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16090325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkReyna16/pseuds/DarkReyna16
Summary: When her picture-perfect plan falls down around her ears, Katara must regroup to get her life back on track.Even if it means moving in with her brother and his hot and surly roommate. Temporarily, of course.





	1. And They Were Roommates

**Author's Note:**

> If you've been paying attention to my writing tumblr, you'll know that this has been an ongoing pet project for months.
> 
> I crave the good Zutara. When I cannot get the good Zutara, I create it myself. It's a problem.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

Katara was in blatant disbelief over how her life was going thus far.

One minute, she was happy and in love, pursuing her doctorate while living with her (she once thought) charming and faithful fiance, Jet.

The next minute, she found said fiance in bed with a  _freshman_  on the eve of one of the biggest tests of her life, and she consequently bombed spectacularly.

The whole situation was beyond humiliating, but if Katara had to pick her least favorite part, it would definitely be the part where she had no choice but to move in with her  _brother._

“This is  _temporary_ ,” she stressed to him for the umpteenth time as he graciously took one of her heavier boxes. “Just until I find my own place.”

“I know, Katara,” Sokka replied with a pointed roll of his eyes, hoisting the box higher into his arms as they climb the stairs up to the second floor. “Or, to avoid stressing about it further, you could just stay with me for the summer–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh come on, it’s bad enough that you have to take a summer course to make up for that test you failed,” he pointed out, rubbing salt heedlessly into Katara’s still-bleeding wound. “You really wanna add the pressure of having to find another place to live, too?” He spared her a dark glance as he fished out his apartment key from his pocket with some effort. “I don’t know why you didn’t just kick Jet out. We both know  _you_ were the one paying rent in that place.”

Katara pictured a dark room, the sound of another girl moaning her fiance’s name as they tangled together under the blankets of  _Katara’s bed,_  and she shut her eyes, reminding herself that she was holding a box with very fragile, breakable things inside.

“I didn’t want anything to do with that place anymore,” she muttered to her toes, keeping her glare to keep from crying. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

Sokka apparently had nothing to say to that–or maybe he was just focused on trying to get the key into the lock while balancing that heavy box. As the key slid into the deadbolt, his eyes met hers.

“My offer to kill him still stands. No questions asked.”

That managed to make Katara smile. Sokka could be a pain in the ass, but at the end of the day, he was still her big brother.

“I don’t think Suki would be very happy if I helped put you in jail,” she placated him, finally deciding to help him out by twisting the knob for him. Sokka grunted a thanks and stumbled into the apartment, finally setting the box down before he let out a groan of exhaustion.

“What’s even  _in_ there?”

“Books,” Katara replied dryly, pointing to the writing atop the box that clearly said “BOOKS”. Sokka grunted again, rubbing at one of his shoulders as Katara took her time to get acquainted with his place.

She had never been here before; when Sokka had moved to the city, it was after he had finished boot camp, and after Katara had already been settled with Jet. Countless times he’d invited her over for a visit, but she had always declined, stating that she was too busy with school, and if she wanted to keep on track, she needed to devote all her time to her studies–

 _“Are you honestly surprised, Katara? All you wanted to do when you got home was_ study. _What else was I supposed to do?”_

Katara closed her eyes again and did her best to quell the storm beginning to rise within her. Jet was  _not_ about to make her believe this was all her fault. He was a cheater and a liar and he had betrayed her. She wouldn’t be forgetting that anytime soon.

“It’s cleaner than I expected,” Katara remarked once she was calmer. Sokka scoffed beside her.

“That’s because my roommate is a neat freak,” he commented, giving Katara a knowing look. “He reminds me of you in that regard.”

Katara rolled her eyes.

“I am not a neat freak,” she corrected him with long-perfected ease. “I’m just not a  _slob_  who thinks it’s okay to toss my socks wherever I please–”

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Sokka interrupted, not really listening as a door down the hall creaked open. “Yo, Zuko! Come meet my little sister!”

Katara was not prepared as Sokka’s roommate stepped out of what was apparently the bathroom, if the towel wrapped around his waist was any indication. Beads of water still glistened on his pale skin, and Katara found herself blushing as she couldn’t help but take notice of how incredibly  _cut_  Sokka’s roommate’s upper body was. Jet was a gym rat, yes, but even  _he_  didn’t have that kind of muscle definition.

There was another towel over the stranger’s head–it hung in his face as he glanced over at Katara and Sokka. His eyes were a strange, amber color, and the shape of his nose and jaw struck Katara with the oddest feeling that she was in the presence of royalty.

“Dude!” Sokka protested, and suddenly, a hand was in Katara’s face. “Put some clothes on! There’s a lady present!”

“Sokka,” Katara sighed, pushing his hand from her face in exasperation; he acted like she was a blushing maiden or something. Well, she might be blushing, but…

“I’d be dressed if I’d known you were inviting someone over,” his roommate–Zuko, Sokka had called him–spoke at last. His voice had a raspy, rumbling quality, with a dry edge. Katara followed the movement of his hands as he reached up, towel-drying the dark hair she could see brushing against his shoulders. “Your fault for not warning me we’d have company.”

“I  _told_ you Katara was coming!” Sokka insisted, trying again to cover Katara’s eyes until he caught the look on her face, and then raising his hands in surrender. “Remember? I said that she’d be staying with us for a while until she figured out her next move?”

The right side of Zuko’s features pulled themselves into well-worn frown lines.

“When?”

“Like a week ago! Remember? We were playing Gran Theft Auto and I said I might have to move my PS4 into my room for a while?”

An inkling of realization seemed to dawn on Zuko.

“Oh.” As he lowered the towel from his head, looking thoughtful, Katara couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her.

The left side of Zuko’s face was dominated by a harsh, angry-looking scar that nearly sealed his left eye shut.

Her hands flew to her mouth, but it was too late, the gasp was already out, and Zuko’s eyes had cut to her. She noticed him scowl menacingly before she dropped her gaze in embarrassment, and a moment later, she jumped when a door slammed shut. After a tense moment, Sokka cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” he said, turning to nudge one of her boxes with his foot. “So, that’s Zuko. We met in boot camp. Anyway, you’ll be sleeping on the pull-out couch. It’s a piece of shit, but it’s the best I can do until we can get you settled elsewhere.” He paused a beat. “Don’t ask him.”

Katara blinked, tearing her gaze from down the hall.

“Don’t ask who what?”

Sokka gave her a dry look.

“You know who, and you know what,” Sokka said knowingly. “Seriously, don’t. I know your life’s ambition is to heal people, but don’t go literally picking at that old wound, all right?”

Katara bit her lip, but she nodded. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t interested to know how such an ugly scar came about…but Sokka was right. This was probably one can of worms she was better off leaving alone.

* * *

Ever since Katara’s mother passed away, she was well aware that living with two men presented its own challenges.

While Katara was used to picking up after Sokka and their father when she was younger, and later picking up after Jet when they moved in together, it was a wholly other thing for her to be expected to pick up after some stranger. But, strangely enough, Zuko never made her.

He was just as Sokka said–a neat freak. He never left his laundry in the dryer, he washed every single dish and utensil he used right after he used it, and if he found a speck of dust literally  _anywhere,_  he’d huff with disgust and arm himself with cleaning supplies, his nonverbal warning for everyone else to vacate the area while he straightened up.

He didn’t speak. No matter what Katara said, she never succeeded in getting more than a one-word answer out of him, if he didn’t just flat-out ignore her. The most she heard him speak was when he was arguing with Sokka about something–usually about roommate stuff, like the rent, or his socks–and it made her wonder if he was more comfortable barking orders than having an actual conversation.

She was curious about him. She couldn’t help but be. Never before had she encountered anyone so stubbornly determined to be an enigma.

Actually, scratch that. She did know one thing about him–he was apparently allergic to shirts.

“ _Dude_ ,” Sokka complained over breakfast one morning, after the fifteenth time he’d caught Katara checking Zuko out as he walked by with his upper body bare. “Seriously, would it  _kill_  you to wear a shirt?”

Zuko stepped back into the doorway of the kitchen with a scowl.

“What do you care all of a sudden?” He demanded to know, crossing his arms over his chest. Sokka rolled his eyes and gestured to Katara with his head.

“I don’t care when it’s just us, but  _Katara_  lives here now.”

“So?” Zuko snapped with barely a glance to Katara. She tried not to be offended. “This is still  _my_  apartment, whether or not your stupid sister’s staying here.”

“It’s  _my_  apartment, too! All I’m asking is that you show a little respect!”

“‘Respect’? How can  _you_ talk about  _respect_ , after all the goddamn times I’ve asked you not to leave your shit lying around, or all the times you invite Suki over and make an absolute racket on  _school nights_ –”

“OKAY, that’s enough!” Katara cried over the bickering, standing up and clapping her hands loudly to get their attention. Huffing, she put her hands on her hips, turning first to her brother, since he was the easiest to scold. “Drop it, Sokka. You’re not exactly a perfect roommate, so you have no right to tell Zuko to put on a shirt in the apartment he keeps clean mostly by  _himself._ ”

As Sokka sputtered his indignation, Katara mustered her courage, and turned to Zuko next, who was regarding her warily. He dropped his gaze the moment their eyes met, his head turning so she couldn’t see the left side of his face. Somewhere inside her, Katara felt bad about that, but she was too irritated with the pair of them to focus on it.

“I am not stupid,” she clarified first and foremost with deadly calm. Zuko’s eye tightened, but he otherwise didn’t respond. “I know you don’t want me here, and I don’t want to be here any longer than I can help it. But until I find another place, I’m going to be here. And I don’t care whether you wear a shirt or not–I’m still going to be here. But Sokka’s right: showing a little respect won’t kill you.”

No one said anything for a long time. Katara glanced at her watch and sighed.

“I have to go, or I’ll be late for class,” she grumbled, her mood sinking further south. It was such an insult that she had to retake this course all over again, when she had previously been passing with flying colors. Professor Pakku was merciless.

After she deposited her dishes in the dishwasher, Katara marched up to the doorway, which was still being blocked by Zuko.

“Excuse me,” she said pointedly, staring right into his face, even though he still refused to meet her gaze. Mutely, he moved aside, and Katara repressed another sigh as she gathered her things from the living room and headed out. Men. Who could understand them?

After she was gone, Zuko huffed, slumping against the doorway as he stared broodingly at the front door.

“Can’t believe I have to deal with two of you now,” he grumbled, rubbing at his temple, which was beginning to pulse with a headache.

“Hey, cut her a break,” Sokka mumbled around a mouthful of breakfast steak, now that the tension had dispersed. “I mean, I know I probably don’t have an excuse, but she’s been through a lot, so ease up, all right? Her scummy ex-fiance cheated on her, and she failed a really important course because of it–the last thing she needs is any of your attitude.”

Zuko blinked at that, startled.

“I don’t give her attitude.”

Sokka paused, giving Zuko a flat look.

“Dude, you’ve pretty much been acting like she’s a nuisance since she got here, with the way you practically ignore her.”

“I don’t–”

“Yes, you do,” Sokka overrode him, picking up his empty plate and depositing it into the sink. Someone else would wash it, either Zuko or Katara, but it would eventually be washed. “I know people aren’t exactly your thing, man, and I know she’s only staying here temporarily, but it  _seriously_ wouldn’t kill you to be a little more civil.”

Zuko sucked his teeth. That was the third time the siblings had stated what would or wouldn’t kill him–why were they both so obsessed with his death?

“Whatever,” he grumbled, not having time for this. He turned and left the room, stalking into his own. As he got ready for work, his thoughts strayed to his roommate’s sister, and he frowned unconsciously.

So that’s why she was staying with them. Zuko had never learned the whys until now; Sokka had only told him that Katara would be staying with them. It annoyed Zuko that Sokka had decided something like that on his own without even consulting him first, and…well, maybe that was why he was a little less than friendly when it came to Katara. But how was he supposed to react to her sudden appearance? It wasn’t like he didn’t have a lot of really important things going on in his life as well…

Zuko sighed and straightened his tie, making sure his hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail. Whatever. He would deal with both of them at a later time. Right now, he had shit to do.

* * *

Katara didn’t notice him in the shadows until he stepped into the moonlight.

She had been sitting there, her knees curled up against her chest, silent tears pouring from her eyes that she hated. She  _hated_ Jet, hated him for forcing her into this situation, hated him for hurting her like this, hated him for making her cry like this. She hated him for fucking that girl, hated him for having the  _nerve_  to blame  _her_  for his wayward dick, and hated that he still lived comfortably in what should have been  _their_  apartment until they decided to expand their family.

But most of all, more than anything, she absolutely fucking  _hated_  him for making her miss him.

As she muffled a sob, swiping furiously at her eyes, sudden movement caught her attention. She let out a squeak, grabbing for the nearest thing–a pillow–ready to throw it, but then the moonlight washed over him, and her fight response was tempered.

In response, her humiliation grew ten-fold.

“What do you want?” She snapped bitterly, hating that  _Zuko_  of all people was the one bearing witness to her tears.

He said nothing. Typical. Interestingly enough, though, he happened to be wearing a shirt now. Katara wondered what prompted that miracle.

After a beat of awkward silence, he abruptly spoke.

“You okay?”

Katara stared at him. What in the name of Tui and La was he up to?

“What do you care?” She wanted to know, turning her head away to wipe away the last of her tears. From her peripheral vision, she saw him shrug. She eyed him suspiciously. “What are you even doing up?”

Zuko stiffened a little, his amber eyes averted. He was quiet so long that Katara assumed he wouldn’t answer, and was therefore surprised once he did.

“Nightmare.”

She stared at him again. Such a mundane answer…it stunned her.

“You have nightmares?” She blurted in surprise, and then cursed herself. Of course he had nightmares; he was human, too.

A corner of Zuko’s lips twitched, and she was further surprised to see the sardonic half-smile that crossed his features. She couldn’t believe it–was he sleepwalking?

“Comes with war,” he reasoned with another shrug.

Katara’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline.

“You were deployed?” Huh. Sokka hadn’t had that misfortune, so Katara had just assumed that he and Zuko had just rode out boot camp together without incident. But now…

Zuko nodded. He didn’t say anything else. Katara’s curiosity momentarily overwhelmed her.

“Is that how–” she began, only to remember her brother’s warning too late when Zuko’s expression abruptly shut down, and he looked away from her. She cursed herself again. She didn’t even have to finish asking the question, but Zuko had already known what she was about to say. He must be terribly self-conscious about it, and here she was, tossing salt carelessly into the fresh wound. Maybe she was more like Sokka than she would care to admit.

It grew quiet in the living room again, and she sighed. Damn it. There went her chance to get to know Zuko when his guard was down for a change–

“Do you miss him?”

Katara’s head snapped up. Zuko was looking at her through the corner of his right eye, seeming to study her. She felt her face grow hot, and she immediately resolved to feed Sokka his own boiled socks for breakfast tomorrow morning.

“No,” she said with a defiant huff. After a pause, her shoulders slumped. “Well, I don’t want to. It’s complicated.”

Zuko nodded. Katara watched him curiously. Were they…actually having a moment? What was going on?

“Why are you here?” She asked him. Her eyebrows raised again as she noticed the blush that painted itself across his cheeks as he glanced away from her.

“I was getting some water…and I heard you crying.”

Ah. Well, that was embarrassing.

“I’m surprised you could. Sokka’s snoring is enough to drown out almost anything,” Katara joked weakly. A well-timed snort from the next room over illustrated her point, and Zuko gave a little snort in what might have been amusement before his expression sobered.

“You okay?” He asked again, looking as if Katara’s answer was of dire importance. She tilted her head, regarding him strangely.

“What do you care?” She echoed herself as well, watching him carefully. Zuko glanced away again, rubbing at his neck in an uncomfortable gesture.

“I have a little sister too,” he admitted after a moment. He met her eyes as he added, “If some asshole made her cry, I wouldn’t be happy, either.”

Katara didn’t know why, but somehow, his quiet concern was touching.

But her pride wouldn’t let him know that.

“You know what happiness is?” She ribbed him with a mischievous look. Zuko returned the look with a dry expression.

“Very funny,” he drawled, and Katara giggled, unable to help herself.

“I’m fine,” she answered his question at last, since his concern seemed to be genuine. She paused, and then reluctantly amended, “Well, I’m not  _fine,_  but…I will be.” She clenched her fists in determination underneath the pillow in her lap. “I have to be.”

Zuko regarded her for a long moment. It made Katara self-conscious.

“Are  _you_  okay?” She returned, eyes raking over his face. Her gaze lingered on his scar for a moment too long, and while that seemed to make Zuko scowl, this time, he didn’t turn his head to hide it from view. Instead, he met her gaze head on as he replied,

“I’m fine.”

His answer sounded more like a show of force than anything, but Katara shrugged and let it go. It probably wasn’t wise to push him any further on the subject; men could get impossibly stubborn, she had learned.

“Well…good night, then,” she bade him, easing back onto the shitty mattress her brother called a pull-out bed. Zuko recognized the dismissal, and he shrugged again; it seemed to be his default response to most things. As he headed for the hallway, Katara turned around, facing the window as the moon peeked through the blinds, as if to reassure her.

“Good night,” she heard a quiet voice say at the last minute before soft footsteps sounded down the hall. Smiling to herself, Katara closed her eyes.

* * *

“What do you  _mean_  you’re leaving?!”

Sokka huffed as he continued to stuff his duffel bag full of clothes.

“It’s Dad,” he explained at last as Katara stood over him, testily tapping her foot. “The business is struggling; I’m going to help him with his summer trip, because if he doesn’t bring back a really big haul, there’s a good chance he’s going to have to file for bankruptcy.”

That erased Katara’s attitude on the spot.

“I’m going with–”

“No,” Sokka said before she could even get the declaration out. He stood straight with the strap of his back slung over his shoulder, frowning at the scowl Katara was giving him. “You’re going to stay here.”

“Sokka, I am  _not_  a little girl–”

“This has nothing to do with you being little or a girl,” Sokka stated so diplomatically that it shocked Katara into silence. “You have to finish your studies.”

“But I can help!” She protested, following him as he left his room, heading out into the living room. “I’ve been fishing just as long as you have!”

“Katara, you  _can’t_  go,” Sokka insisted, turning to frown at her. “What about your summer class?”

“I’ll take it again in the fall.”

“There might not be a fall semester for you if you don’t keep your grades up,” Sokka said grimly. “If you don’t pass this course, you’ll lose your scholarship. And if Dad’s business goes under…”

He trailed off, but Katara didn’t need him to finish–she already knew how dire it was that she maintain her scholarship. She had barely convinced the scholarship committee to let her keep it for her summer course; they had only allowed it on the condition that her grade point average would be brought up to a more acceptable level during her retake of her anatomy course. But if she lost her scholarship, and if Hakoda’s fishing business failed, she would have no money left for college. And if she had no money left for college…

She was distracted from her depressing thoughts by the hand that patted her head. She glanced up in surprise; Sokka hadn’t done that since they were kids.

“I know you want to help,” he said gently, suddenly all Big Brotherly with concern. “But that’s why  _I_ have to go. With everything that’s going on, if you  _do_  lose your scholarship, you’ll need a fallback.” He smiled. “I know you’re used to taking care of me and Dad, Katara, but now it’s our turn. Don’t give up on your dream because of us.”

Katara pouted. Now that just wasn’t fair–he was acting like it was a  _nuisance_  for Katara, like she didn’t  _want_  to help take care of him and their father. Sure, there were days where she had screamed herself shrilly for Sokka to  _learn how to do his own damn laundry, for spirit’s sake_ , but when it came to something like this–

Another thought occurred to her as Sokka made for the door.

“Wait! Where am  _I_ supposed to go?” She complained as Sokka pulled the door open. “I can’t very well stay  _here_ if  _you’re_  not here!”

Sokka turned back to her, blinking surprised blue eyes.

“Why not?” He asked, sounding genuinely confused. Katara gaped at him.  _Why_   _not?_ What did he  _mean, ‘why not’?_

“Because!” She protested, throwing her hands up in frustration. “If  _you’re_  not here, that means _I’ll_ be the only one living here with Zuko!”

“So what?” Sokka snorted with a roll of his eyes. “If you’re worried about rent, don’t, because I have enough to cover you for the summer–”

As he went on about why she shouldn’t worry, Katara stared at him. She couldn’t believe it–wasn’t this the same Sokka that complained about his roommate daring to be  _shirtless_  in front of his little sister two weeks ago? Where was this sudden change of heart coming from?

“Besides,” Sokka was saying as Katara tuned back into his explanation, his eyes going to something behind her, “Zuko doesn’t mind, do you, buddy?”

Katara whirled around, finding Zuko slumped against the living room wall. When the hell had  _he_ gotten there? She hadn’t even realized he was home!

Zuko met her gaze, something simmering in his eyes. They hadn’t spoke so candidly to each other since that night a few days ago, and Katara wasn’t really sure how to take that. She stared back at him, trying to puzzle him out, wondering how he felt about this new and sudden arrangement. While it would be  _nice_  for her to not have to be homeless for the summer after all, surely  _he_  also recognized how strange it would be for her to be living here without Sokka present–

After a moment, Zuko shrugged and looked away.

“I don’t mind,” he said. Katara felt her jaw unhinge in shock.

“Well there you go!” Sokka said cheerfully; his hand patted Katara’s shoulder from behind. “That settles that!”

“Sokka–” Katara began, turning back to him, but he was already stepping out the door, pulling it closed behind him.

“See you! I’ll call to update you when I can! Be good!”

The door slamming shut sounded oddly final to Katara. For a moment, she could only stare at it, shocked beyond belief that Sokka had  _actually_  left her in this situation.

And then she remembered she had an audience.

“Ahem! Well, ha,” she said as lightly as she could, forcing a laugh and a smile as she turned back to Zuko. “I, uh, guess we’re roommates now…?”

Something glittered in Zuko’s eyes. Whether it was friendly or fiendish, Katara had no way of knowing. All he did was offer her another shrug.

“Guess we are.”


	2. Bubbles and Troubles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter lengths are sporadic because I was writing on Tumblr; therefore, I wasn't too concerned about the length. Still not, since this is my pet project, but I figured I'd explain why some may be longer than others. :P
> 
> Nevertheless, enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

Katara moaned in satisfaction as she slid lower, letting the warmth surround her. She could feel her muscles easing as she accepted this warmth, embraced it, let it seep all the way through her skin and into her very marrow–

“KATARA!! QUIT HOGGING THE BATHROOM!!”

Katara huffed, and sank down until the water came up to her nose. Couldn’t a lady just enjoy a simple bath around here?

When she didn’t answer, pounding sounded at the door, and a raspy voice called angrily through the door:

“Get  _out!_  You’ve been in there for twenty-five minutes!!”

Katara growled, sitting up just enough to leave her mouth clear.

“I have  _not_  been in here for that long!”

“You have so! I’ve been keeping track!”

“Well that’s just creepy!”

An irritated huff sounded beyond the door.

“Take your goddamn bath later! I have a meeting to get to in twenty minutes, and I would  _like_  not to smell like sweat!”

“Well why did you go for a run knowing you had a meeting coming up soon? Better yet, why didn’t you just shower as soon as you got home instead of sitting around in your sweat, genius?”

Another frustrated noise, and what sounded like swearing in another language.

“I swear to Agni, if you’re not out in the next five minutes–”

“Oh calm down, I’m getting out,” Katara surrendered, eyeing the soapy water with regret before she tugged the stopper out of the drain. Sokka’s bathtub would never compare to the one in her old apartment, but after the week she’d had, Katara was willing to take it. But didn’t Zuko just have the worst timing ever?

Wrapping herself securely in her towel, Katara paced over to the door, rolling her eyes when she heard angry snarling behind it.

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” she chided Zuko, not intimidated at all as Zuko bore down on her, his expression fierce with irritation. “Getting your blood pressure up like that is why men die young, you know.”

“Men die young to get away from  _women_ ,” Zuko ‘corrected’ her, brushing past when she finally stepped into the hall, and she rolled her eyes again as he slammed the bathroom door shut. What a hot-head.

A week after Sokka’s departure had Katara realizing too late that her brother had actually been keeping the peace between her and Zuko for the first two weeks: with Zuko aiming all his ire at Sokka, he had had none to spare for Katara, even if he hadn’t exactly been thrilled with her staying with them. But now that Sokka and his wise-cracks were gone, there was nothing to break the tension, and it was with a rather unpleasant shock that Katara found herself butting heads with Zuko more than she would have initially believed. Spirits, the man had a temper over the smallest things. Well, if he thought Katara would back down and cower like a little girl, he was sorely mistaken–she had absolutely no issue with firing back at him about his stupid habits, like eating her leftovers without permission, or deactivating the smoke alarms so he could smoke  _indoors,_ what was he, a pyromaniac tempting fate?

Katara shook her head, removing her towel once she was safely in Sokka’s room–or  _her_  room now. After all, Sokka wouldn’t be using it for a while, so why should Katara have to put up with that shitty pull-out couch when there was a perfectly good mattress up for grabs? She just had to make sure that she washed the hell out of the sheets, but once that was done, she was golden.

It was as Katara was drying the ends of her hair that dipped into the surface of the water during her short-lived bath that she realized that Zuko hadn’t looked at her at all during their brief encounter in the hallway.

She frowned. Her towel had been snug against her, hugging every single curve she possessed…and yet, he hadn’t looked. At all. Meanwhile, she couldn’t help but check him out every time he walked around shirtless (which was decreasing in frequency, to her disappointment) but he couldn’t spare a glance at her after a bath? What was that supposed to mean?

‘ _Why do you care?_ ’ Katara asked herself, rubbing the ends of her hair perhaps a little too vigorously. ‘ _So what if he didn’t look? He’s a jerk, but at least he’s not a pervert. You should be glad he wasn’t ogling you_.’

Her reason was sound, of course…but it was hard to argue down her wounded pride as a woman.


	3. The Little Touches

_“Pull back, goddamn it, pull back!”_

_“Lieutenant! They’ve brought reinforcements!”  
_

_“Never mind that! Don’t pay attention to what they’re doing! Fall back and get to cover!”  
_

_An ominous whizzing sound whistled through the air, and Zuko just had enough time to see the shock registering on his commanding officer’s face._

_“LU TEN!!”  
_

The explosion and the searing pain jostled Zuko awake. His back flattened against his headboard, and he gasped into the night. Rough fingers clasped the handle of the knife underneath his pillow; a reassurance that he was not helpless. As his heart steadied, the quiet of the night seeped in, and slowly, Zuko let his shoulders fall.

Again. It had nearly been a year since that day, and yet the memory returned every night to torture him, as if it had happened only just yesterday. Zuko inhaled sharply, throwing the blanket off of him as he stood up. He wouldn’t get back to sleep for a while. A cigarette was in order.

As he passed by Sokka’s–Katara’s–room, he could hear the soft sounds of a video of some sort playing. He paused, staring at the door in confusion. It was the middle of the night–there was no way she was still awake, was she?

After a moment, he shrugged. Whatever. It wasn’t his business whether she was still awake or not. He moved on.

The breeze out on the balcony was cool on his overheated skin, and Zuko groaned in relief. From the back pocket of his jeans, he tugged out his cigarette pack and a lighter, plucking one of the cancer sticks from within and frowning at the vast space in between. Damn, was he almost out already? He’d have to make sure to pick up more the next time he was out.

Zuko was in the process of lighting the cigarette once it was between his lips and taking a drag when he heard the balcony doors slide open behind him.

“Zuko?”

Zuko turned. There stood Katara, her long hair piled atop her head in a messy bun. She wore an oversized t-shirt that left her left shoulder exposed, depicting a teddy bear “grinning and bearing” mornings. Her blue eyes shone in the light of the moon, and even as she yawned and rubbed sleepily at them, Zuko could see the concern in their depths. He turned away, exhaling smoke.

“Cute t-shirt,” he said, just to rile her up. Katara huffed mildly behind him, but that was all the response he got.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Watching a turtle take a drink of water,” he remarked sarcastically. He expected her to leave him alone after that; if it wasn’t obvious, he so wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

But because it was Katara, she ignored the hint entirely and approached. Zuko tensed; she was on his left side. He didn’t like that.

“Smoking kills, you know,” she said in that annoying, mothering tone of hers. Zuko rolled his eyes and took another drag.

“I’m aware, doctor,” he drawled, turning to shoot her a dry glance. “Maybe I just don’t wanna live that long.”

Katara stared at him, apprehension in her eyes. Zuko sighed and flicked ash from the tip of his cigarette.

“I was kidding,” he added awkwardly.

“You need a better sense of humor.”

Zuko huffed. He really couldn’t deal with her at all.

“What do you want, Katara?”

“I heard you cry out earlier,” Katara admitted after a beat of silence, and Zuko closed his eyes and cursed. Goddamn paper-thin walls.

“What are you even still doing up? It’s three in the morning.”

“I…was watching some old movies,” she said, and Zuko glanced over to find her avoiding his gaze. The summer breeze gusted past, and she closed her eyes, loose tendrils of her hair dancing in the wind. Zuko looked away again and took a longer drag.

They stood in companionable, if not awkward silence for a time, Zuko stewing in his own thoughts. He was only reminded of her presence when there was a sudden tugging on his hair. He glanced over at her again, startled. What was she doing?

Her frown was concentrated as her fingers tugged through the ends of his dark hair.

“Sokka has a picture of you two in boot camp in his room,” Katara said softly, her fingers reaching higher as they trailed through his hair. “You had an undercut then.”

Zuko felt his eyes closing a little at the contact. He was trying to figure out why, exactly, she felt the need to pet him, but he couldn’t really deny that the contact felt nice. Comforting, even.

“You looked good with an undercut,” Katara reflected, and Zuko grunted in a non-committed fashion. “Not that you don’t look good now, but I wonder: isn’t all this hair more annoying to deal with?”

“Not really,” Zuko replied after a moment, slowly letting his smoldering cigarette rest in the ashtray. “It’s less of a pain to just let it grow instead of constantly having to cut it. And it’s kind of nice to be allowed to have it long, after being told to look a certain way for so long.”

His eyes were completely closed now, so he heard rather than saw the shock in Katara’s voice as she said,

“Your job has no problem with your hair this long?”

Zuko chuckled at that. Why did she sound so scandalized?

“Helps that my uncle’s the CEO,” he admitted, thinking of his wise and good-natured uncle. “He runs a trading business dealing with the import and export of foreign goods. It is a professional setting, but Uncle says that as long as everyone does their jobs, they can come to work in bathrobes if they’d like.” Zuko rolled his eyes indulgently. Crazy old man.

Katara sighed a little, her fingers still trailing through his hair, for some reason. Zuko wondered at that, but since it felt so nice, so he wasn’t exactly inclined to stop her, either…

“Must’ve been nice, to have a job waiting for you as soon as you got back home. Meanwhile, I have to slog through another year of undergrad and four more years of grad school before I can even think about starting my career.”

Zuko let himself smile.

“I’m currently in grad school for my business degree as well,” he bragged. Katara’s fingers paused for the briefest moments before she resumed petting him.

“Huh. No wonder you’re so cranky all the time–you never sleep, from the sound of things.”

Zuko snorted. Sleep was indeed an issue, but not for the reasons she was expecting.

Katara’s fingers extracted themselves from his hair at last….only to drift across his ear to his scar.

Zuko hissed and jerked away, turning to give her his back. What the hell did she think she was doing?

After a tense moment, Katara spoke behind him, her voice apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–did that hurt you?”

An aggravated rumbling sounded in Zuko’s chest, and he closed his eyes again.

“No,” he answered, lifting his own hand to his scar as he scowled into the night. “I can’t feel anything there.”

The night went silent. Zuko picked his cigarette back up, exhaling smoke as he waited for her to ask what she would inevitably ask him–

“…What happened, Zuko?”

Zuko exhaled. She  _had_  to ask him. Her timing was terrible.

“None of your business, Katara,” he replied, his voice harsh and throaty.

In the stillness of the darkness, Zuko waited for her to fire back at him, to get all huffy and give him grief because  _excuse her,_ she was only concerned about him, and it was something that was clearly still hurting him, and if he just talked about it, then maybe the accompanying nightmares around his scar wouldn’t chafe him raw nearly every night–

The balcony door sliding shut startled him. Zuko whirled around in time to see Katara’s heel disappearing as she retreated back into the apartment.

She had left him alone.

‘ _Good_ ,’ Zuko’s thoughts insisted as he turned back to his ashtray with a sigh. ‘ _What does she need to know about my scar for anyway? Why’s she always staring at it when she thinks I’m not looking? What does she want from me?_ ’

Zuko was no closer to that answer than he had been when she had first moved in. And yet he feared, as he snuffed the butt of his cigarette out in the ashtray, that her searching blue eyes would begin to haunt him almost as often as his nightmares did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like exploring the tormented depths of Zuko's psyche; he has so much to say, even when he's not speaking.
> 
> But smoking is bad for him. He should really stop. >:C
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	4. A Taste of Home

“Oh hey, Zuko? Could you come here for a second?”

Zuko paused mid-step, peering cautiously into the kitchen as Katara stood at the stove. It had been three days since they had properly spoken since their midnight meeting. What did she want with him now?

Barely glancing at him, Katara waved him forward as she vigorously stirred a wooden spoon in a bubbling pot.

“C’mere,” she beckoned again. Cautiously, Zuko entered the kitchen, more curious than anything, only to be surprised when she was suddenly shoving the spoon in his face. “Here, taste this.”

Zuko avoided the spoon entering his mouth, eyeing it warily. Katara rolled her eyes.

“Relax–I’m not trying to poison you or anything.” Her expression went flat. “There was enough of that going on last night.”

Zuko flushed, cringing at the memory: a part of him felt bad about shutting Katara out, so in an attempt to reconcile, he had made dinner. He had promptly forgotten about Sokka’s aversion to his use of spices until Katara nearly choked to death after one bite of his homemade curry, and he went to bed frustrated and ashamed. He hadn’t even  _used_  that much spice, though…what was with them? Why were they so sensitive?

“Just try my stew,” Katara insisted again when Zuko continued to merely eye the spoon. “I wanna make sure I got it right.”

Her eyes were round and pleading, shining with an anxiousness Zuko didn’t understand. With a sigh through his nose, he complied…but not without grabbing the spoon himself, first. He did  _not_  need to be fed like a baby–he was a grown-ass man.

Tempering his expectations–because he had had enough experience with Sokka’s cooking to know better–Zuko took the tiniest taste that he could of the stew.

His eyes widened in surprise.

“It’s good,” he remarked, perhaps too much disbelief coloring his tone. Instead of being offended, however, Katara grinned, her eyes lighting up. Zuko looked away awkwardly.

“Yes!” She cheered triumphantly, her fists hitting the air as she threw up her hands. “I did it!”

Zuko stuck his head over the pot, sniffing in interest. Sure, it could use a bit more chili pepper or something, but it didn’t smell bad. It didn’t smell familiar, either, though…

“What is it?”

“Artic hen stew,” Katara announced, shooing him away from the pot as she stirred the stew twice more before turning off the heat and moving the pot to a cooler eye on the stove. As Katara busied herself with grabbing bowls, a wistful note stole into her voice. “It was my mother’s specialty.”

Zuko blinked at the forlorn look that crossed Katara’s face. What was that look for…?

“Was?” He asked, picking up on the ominous past tense. Katara sighed, staring down into the bowls she held for a moment.

“She died when I was young,” she admitted.

Zuko stilled. In that moment, he recalled every single inane conversation he had ever had with Sokka, shocked to realize that, in all the stories Sokka had shared about home, and his sister, and his dad…not once had he ever mentioned his mother. At the time, Zuko couldn’t recall finding that strange–he didn’t have a mother either, so he never really thought anything of it when Sokka didn’t mention his, but now…

“I’m sorry.”

The words were out before Zuko realized he had spoken them, his only clue being Katara’s gaze turning to him. She gave him a brave smile.

“Want some?” She asked, changing the subject as she gestured towards the pot. Unsure of what else to say, Zuko merely nodded, and was rewarded with another one of Katara’s smiles. As he sat at the kitchen table, he watched her dole out stew into the bowls, humming a little to herself. It was such a mothering sort of pose…suddenly, Zuko felt he had gotten a glimpse into Katara’s soul, and what made her the woman she was today. It certainly explained why she seemed to feel compelled to pick up after Sokka and scold him at every turn…

Zuko frowned. This…made them uneven, didn’t it? Katara had just shared with him something painful from her past, and yet, Zuko hadn’t given her anything in return. That wasn’t fair, was it?

“My mother left when I was ten,” he admitted. Katara paused, and a bit of stew plopped onto the counter. She seemed not to notice, turning to peer at him from her peripheral vision, her brows furrowed.

“Left?” She asked delicately. Zuko shrugged, turning from her and folding his arms across his chest.

“My father’s kind of a dick. I guess she just got fed up. I never saw her again.”

It was quiet in the kitchen now. Inwardly, Zuko swore at himself. He had just made things awkward, hadn’t he? Sure, both he and Katara had had to grow up without mothers, but that didn’t mean he had to go into his whole background; she hadn’t asked about his dad, so why did he–

A warm touch on his cheek startled Zuko. He blinked, turning to find Katara’s hand resting on his unmarred cheek. The look she gave him…it was one of heartbreak. And it was for  _his_  sake.

Something jumped in Zuko’s stomach, squirming in a nervous fashion.

“Zuko, I’m–”

“It’s fine,” he said hurriedly, taking her wrist to move her hand away from his cheek, because she was doing very strange things to him, and he didn’t understand it, so he wanted it to stop. He dropped her wrist once her fingers had left his face, grunting, “Are we gonna eat or what?”

Katara’s lips pressed together, and that look still hadn’t left her eyes, but she turned and grabbed a bowl, silently handing it to him with an accompanying spoon. Zuko let out a little sigh of relief and dug in, relishing in the delicious stew. Katara sat across from him, eating much slower than him, appearing lost in her own thoughts. Zuko took the silence gratefully; he had said too much for the night, and it unnerved him, how easy it was to open up to Katara…once he let himself, anyway.

Still, he supposed it was comforting to know that maybe, just maybe, they weren’t so different after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, open up, Emo Boy. What's the worst that could happen? :^)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	5. Scaredy-Kat

**Jet: hey babe**

**Jet: so uh**

**Jet: when’re you comin home?**

**Jet: lol**

Katara stared down at her phone for five straight minutes in absolute shock.

What the fuck was this? It had been  _weeks_  since she had caught him in bed with that girl, and  _now_  he wanted to text her like nothing was wrong? Was he  _high?_

Righteous fury overtook Katara, and before she knew it, she was slamming the door to Sokka’s apartment open aggressively, flinging her phone at the couch in aggravation.

Too late she realized that the couch was occupied, but luckily her aim was compromised by her temper; it smacked harmlessly into the couch cushion next to Zuko, and he gave it a glance before turning to Katara, an eyebrow raised.

“Did your phone do something to offend you?” He drawled as Katara blushed; she hadn’t been expecting him to witness her temper tantrum. She huffed, pushing the door shut behind her with her backside.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster, dropping her heavy book bag to the floor while shifting the groceries in her arms to a more comfortable position. As she made her way to the kitchen, she noticed Zuko glance at his watch from the corner of his eye.

“You’re back a little later than usual.”

“I had things to take care of,” Katara said vaguely, partially hoping to aggravate Zuko with his own medicine. He didn’t respond, and Katara huffed, putting the groceries away. Nothing seemed to ruffle that man. It was beyond frustrating.

‘ _Well, almost nothing,’_  Katara amended in her head, thinking on their last late night encounter with a cringe. At least they had managed to move past  _that_  awkwardness.

“Your phone’s buzzing,” Zuko reported from the living room, and Katara jumped out of her own thoughts, hastening back in just in time to see Zuko reaching for her phone.

“No!” She cried, leaping onto the other end of the couch to keep her phone from his grasp. Zuko pulled his hand back, giving her a peculiar look, and Katara felt her face warm in embarrassment. “Y-you don’t have to pick it up, I got it.”

Something glinted in Zuko’s eyes as he turned his attention back to the television.

“I see that,” he said, amusement deep in his rasping voice. Katara felt her body temperature rise again, and cursed him in her mind.

As Katara quieted her buzzing phone, she took note of the half-empty beer bottle resting on Zuko’s thigh and in his grasp. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, Katara noted that Zuko seemed…well, perhaps not relaxed, but he was definitely less-guarded than he usually was. His free arm rested across the back of the couch, and he had a foot up on the coffee table next to half a pack of his beer of choice, his eyes focused on the TV. Huh. And Katara had been so sure that he was only laid-back when he was asleep…

Katara took one glance at the TV and instantly regretted it.

“ _Urgh._  What in the name of the spirits are you watching?” She complained, cringing as some unfortunate bastard had his arm violently separated from his body with an axe. Beside her, Zuko snorted.

“What, don’t tell me you hate the sight of blood?” When she didn’t reply, Zuko’s eyes widened skeptically. “Aren’t you studying to be a doctor? How’re you gonna do your job if you hate the sight of blood?”

“Can we just watch something else, please?” Katara pleaded, avoiding his gaze. 

“I don’t remember asking you to join me.”

Katara was about to retort, but her phone buzzed again. She scowled, turning it off for the night. She didn’t know what the hell Jet was playing at, but she didn’t have the patience to deal with him tonight. She could feel Zuko’s eyes on her, but refused to meet them, looking anywhere but at him or the TV, where someone was literally screaming bloody murder. Ugh. Maybe she’d be better off holing up in her room tonight–

Much to her surprise, the half-empty pack of beer was slid towards her by Zuko’s foot.

“Help yourself. Take the edge off on a Thursday night,” Zuko rumbled in explanation as Katara blinked at him in surprise. Her mouth actually came open when Zuko picked up the remote and obligingly changed the channel.

“Are you actually being  _nice_  right now?” Katara questioned in shock, immediately regretting the words when Zuko’s shrewd gaze slid to her.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised…”

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologized sheepishly, taking one of Zuko’s beer bottles. To be quite honest, she enjoyed a nice glass of wine better than any beer, but Jet texting her out of the blue had her in need of alcohol, so this was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Zuko flipped through the channels before settling on a horror/thriller movie. Katara felt him glance at her, but she leaned forward eagerly, recognizing the young actress on screen.

“Ooh,  _The Uninvited!_  This is a good one, leave it here.”

“You like this?”

“Oh yeah, I never saw the ending coming. It’s the best kind of horror movie, although–EEK!” She shrieked as a jumpscare popped up right on queue; beer sloshed onto her top, and she scrambled into Zuko by instinct. A moment later she froze, her face buried in Zuko’s shoulder. Oh no…well now she had just made a  _complete_  fool of herself. She was never going to live this down–

“Pfft! Hahahaha!”

Katara lifted her head in surprise, pleasant surprise overruling her chagrin as Zuko threw his head back and laughed. It completely transformed his face, his frown lines disappearing as glee took over, even if he was laughing at someone else’s expense.

“Hahaha! Why’re you so scared if you’ve seen this movie already?” He teased, grinning down at her as he continued snickering. Hurriedly, Katara scrambled through her brain to try and respond instead of gaping at how  ~~adorable~~   ~~handsome~~  different his smile made him.

“I-it’s been a while since I’ve seen this movie,” she admitted, looking away from him as her face grew hot once more (it was the alcohol, it  _had_  to be the alcohol, even if she had only had a few sips so far). “I…forgot about the jumpscares.”

Zuko continued to chuckle, and to Katara’s great surprise, his free hand came to rest on her shoulder, his arm warm across her back.

“Scaredy-cat,” he teased her again, his grin widening when Katara glared at him.

“You wait,” she warned him, settling against his side and folding her arms, turning her attention to the TV screen. “This movie will make even a war veteran jump.”

Zuko snorted, the sound reverberating through his chest, which Katara felt distantly. He was so warm…

“I doubt it,” he drawled.

His hand did not move from Katara’s shoulder for the duration of the movie. Katara herself made no attempt to dislodge it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Checks off another Roommate Trope™ on my checklist*
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this not-date! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	6. Midnight Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As they slowly grow closer to each other, I plot away at my keyboard, waiting for them to realize where they're headed...or perhaps, where they already are. >:3{
> 
> Enjoy~ <3
> 
> ~Reyna

Usually, Zuko slept on his back. It was a force of habit: if his back was exposed, he was a sitting duck. And ducks who just sat idly had the unfortunate habit of winding up dead.

However, when he was having a particularly nasty nightmare, he couldn’t help his thrashing. So when he woke up, a hoarse scream tearing through his throat, it was to his surprise, relief, and consternation to find that he had flipped onto his stomach sometime during the night; his scream was lost to the down of his pillow, which was hopefully enough to keep it from reaching Katara’s ears through the very thin wall between their rooms.

Zuko sighed, pushing himself to sit up, grasping his dagger once again. It was a gift, one his uncle had given to him the day he enlisted in the military. The handle was made of pearl, with words of power etched into the steel:  _Never give up without a fight._

Zuko swallowed, carefully tracing his fingers over the inscription while his breathing slowed. It was okay. He was here. He hadn’t surrendered. He had fought to survive. It was okay…

With another sigh, he replaced the dagger under his pillow and slid out from under his sheets, parched. He should really get into the habit of keeping a pitcher of water next to his bed, but if he was being honest with himself (and he rarely was), he just needed a reason to get out of his room. If only for a few minutes, to chase the bad dreams away.

He received a surprise when he stepped out into the hallway: the TV in the living room was on. He paused, squinting against the blue glow that reached the hall. What in the world…?

The answer to his unfinished question came when he rounded the corner and found Katara curled up on the couch, in her pajamas and her messy bun, tired eyes shining with unshed tears in the glow of the television. Zuko paused, cringing when Katara noticed him and hastily hid her face, rubbing at her eyes. Why did he seem to always stumble upon her crying in the middle of the night? This was twice now, damn his luck.

“Oh, Zuko,” Katara muttered, and Zuko frowned at the note of false cheer in her tone as she turned back to him with a dry face and a too-bright smile. “What’re you…?” She trailed off, her eyes scrutinizing him. Slowly, her fake smile faded, and her eyebrows came together. “Bad dream?”

Zuko grimaced. And this was thrice now that she had caught him emotionally compromised after a nightmare. He didn’t know how to feel about being called out like this–when Sokka happened to catch him in his late night prowling, he never pried, but he did insist on reminiscing about “the good times” they had in boot camp, though if Zuko recalled correctly, those “good times” involved a lot of Sokka getting them in trouble with his backchat and sarcastic comments. Pain in the ass…

Zuko glanced away, looking for a way to change the subject. A laugh distracted him, and his eyes were drawn to the TV as a beautiful woman laughed brightly while two children splashed around in a kiddie pool.

He blinked. It was Katara–wait, no, the woman was a little too old to be Katara. And their noses weren’t the same, nor were the shape of their eyes…

Despite the minute differences, it wasn’t difficult to put it together: Zuko must be looking at Katara’s mother.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Katara shift uncomfortably.

“I…sh-she died around this time of year, when me and Sokka were kids.” Zuko hated to see the fresh tears prick Katara’s eyes, and so he looked away. “I was feeling nostalgic tonight, so–”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Katara,” he said gruffly, folding his arms defensively, as if they could protect him from this conversation. He wasn’t good with emotions, whether they were his or someone else’s, so this was pushing him way out of his comfort zone. Dimly, he recalled some moments over the years where Sokka would suddenly become sullen during the summer, and he suddenly felt ashamed that he had never thought to ask why. Some friend he was.

“I know,” Katara replied with a weak laugh. Zuko chanced a glance at her, finding her eyes on the screen once more. He spotted her phone clutched in between her hands, and a memory from earlier that evening came floating to the surface.

“Is that why you threw your phone earlier?” He blurted out before he could stop himself. His horror struck him acutely when Katara’s eyes suddenly flashed over to him. But it didn’t appear to be him she was angry with.

“No,” She spat with a scowl that, frankly, intimidated Zuko, even though he happened to be a soldier. “I was being harassed by Jet.”

Jet? As in a jet plane? No, wait, that didn’t make sense. Damn it, Zuko, wake up.

“My ex,” Katara clarified, appearing to notice Zuko’s confusion. His brows immediately furrowed for a different reason entirely.

“What do you mean, he’s harassing you?” He growled, feeling his gait stiffen. If Sokka was here, he’d be howling for blood right now. Honestly, Zuko wouldn’t blame him.

Katara peered at him, apparently sizing him up. When Zuko continued to scowl, her lips twitched in a suspicious manner, and she patted the spot next to her. Though he raised an eyebrow, Zuko did as she asked and took a seat.

“I guess ‘harassing’ is the wrong word,” she said softly, though her face looked mutinous as she unlocked her phone and went to her text messages. Quietly, she handed her phone over, something that surprised Zuko. Hesitantly, he took it, watching her out of the corner of his eye to see if this was really okay. She gave him a nod and a smile, and inwardly, he marveled. How could someone be so open like that? Like she had nothing to hide?

Zuko was careful to only glance at the most recent text messages, and there were a lot of them. The further he went down, the more he scowled.

Jet, Katara’s asshole ex who  _cheated_  on her, was basically demanding that Katara return to their shared apartment. Though Katara hadn’t bothered to respond to any of them, there were ‘apologies’ peppered in here and there, and assurances that he and whatever woman he had cheated with were through, but mostly, it was whining that Katara was giving up on them too quickly, and that Jet needed her.

Zuko made a disgusted noise. Selfishness. Manipulation. He had seen these tactics one too many times to mistake them for anything else.

“He’s harassing you,” Zuko confirmed, handing Katara’s phone back to her with a dark look. “You need to block his number.”

“I really should,” Katara mused, giving her phone one last irritated look before she huffed and set it down on the coffee table. “I…just need time.”

“He’s going to keep texting you until you answer if you let him.”

“I know. But…”

“You’re not  _seriously_  thinking about going back to him, are you?” Zuko demanded suddenly, sick at the very thought. Some part of him wasn’t quite sure why this was, but he shoved it aside. In living with Katara, he had come to know her as a kind, compassionate woman with a temper that rivaled his own if he pushed her to that point, but overall, she was someone who did not deserve to be guilted back into a terrible relationship by a shitty ex.

Katara blinked, her eyes wide and surprised, for some reason.

“Of course not,” she replied, her tone becoming withering. “How stupid do you think I am?”

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all,” Zuko said roughly, insulted by the insinuation. “Which is why I’d be disappointed if you made such a stupid decision.”

Katara blinked at him again. Zuko couldn’t understand her expression, but something in the way her eyes shone as she looked at him made him flush, and he looked away awkwardly.

“I mean,” he tried again, searching for a way to rephrase his rough words as he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “This guy–I don’t know him, but I’ve heard Sokka talk about him. It sounds like he was a giant man-baby, and you don’t need that. You shouldn’t be having to take care of someone you plan to marry–you should have someone who’ll be your partner, and who’ll treat you like an equal, not like his mom. I know you’re used to taking care of Sokka and everything, but it wouldn’t kill you to let him learn how to do things himself, and your jackass of an ex  _really_  shouldn’t have you waiting on him hand and foot. I guess…I’m just saying you deserve better. That’s all.”

He trailed off in a mumble, feeling his whole face turning red and cursing himself for it. What the hell was he embarrassed for?

A touch on his arm made him jump, and he turned to find Katara smiling at him, her eyes glowing.

“Thank you, Zuko,” she said softly. The blue of her eyes was so distracting; they looked almost inhuman in the glow of the television, as if she wasn’t actually human, but a spirit masquerading instead. A shiver went down Zuko’s back, and he could do nothing but nod, his throat suddenly constricted.

He needed to get out of here. He was steadily getting more and more confused on how to deal with her, and he needed air. Now.

As he stood up, excuses on the tip of his tongue, Katara suddenly gripped his wrist.

“Wait!”

Zuko paused, staring down at her in surprise. Katara seemed to grow embarrassed; she dropped her hand, and she glanced away, a finger curling through a loose strand of her thick hair.

“I-I just…I mean…could…could you stay? For just a little longer?” She asked, looking meeker than Zuko had ever seen her. When he continued to stare, a dark flush made its way into her brown skin. “I-it’s just that…well…with the movie we watched earlier and everything…”

She trailed off, but Zuko caught her meaning in an instant. As he snorted, her flush grew darker still.

“Don’t laugh!” She protested, but Zuko ignored her, chuckling as he grinned down at her.

“Scaredy cat,” he teased her once again, his amusement growing as she glared up at him. “What’s wrong, Katara? Don’t want the spooky ghosts to come and grab your ankles from under the couch?”

“You’re an ass,” Katara snapped at him, though sharp amusement danced across her features, even as she fought to keep her scowl. “Never mind, go back to bed. I hope the ghost kills you first.”

“No you don’t,” Zuko contradicted her, obligingly sinking back onto the couch next to her. “Who would protect you if I’m dead?”

“I’d just make my escape while it’s busy murdering you in your bed,” Katara said smartly, her nose in the air as she crossed her arms. Zuko snickered morbidly at that.

“You’d just leave me like that? That’s cold, Kuruk. Aren’t you studying to be a doctor?”

“And  _as_  a doctor, I’d know a lost cause when I saw one, Caldera,” she shot back at him, more than comfortable with dishing it out as she took it. She was spirited that way, Zuko had discovered; unafraid to stand up to him when he was being a jerk. While it used to annoy him, it was quickly becoming a part of her that was endearing to him. She reminded him a little of Azula, back when they were kids, and when things weren’t so…

To distract himself from the dark turn his thoughts were taking, he took up a pillow and shoved it against Katara, knocking her over onto the other side of the couch.

“Hey!” Katara protested, quickly snatching up a pillow to retaliate, and there was nothing but laughing, teasing, and banter for the rest of the night.

* * *

Zuko stirred slowly, reluctant to wake up. His internal clock was panicking; he was probably running late for work. That made him frown, and his hand reached for his nightstand, wondering why his alarm hadn’t gone off yet.

When his hand met nothing but air, his brows furrowed further. Where the fuck was his phone?

Zuko slit his eyes open.

There was a whole lot of brown hair in his face, a weight against him, and slow, even breathing that did not belong to him.

Zuko froze.

_What the fuck was happening?_

Had he brought home a girl? While the times that happened were few and far between, it was still known to happen. But why couldn’t he remember doing so? Did he drink himself into a stupor last night?

There was a shift, a small groan, and a yawn. And then the girl lifted her head, blinking bleary blue eyes at him.

It was Katara.

The instant Zuko recognized her, she froze, staring wide-eyed at him. Then, at the same time, they yelped and scrambled away from each other, ending up on opposite ends of the couch, staring at each other. As he gaped at her, Zuko rapidly bullied his brain into remembering what occurred last night, and how they had reached  _this_  point of all things:

They had been talking. Then they roughhoused. Then they talked some more, easing further and further into the couch as they did…

And then they must’ve fallen asleep. That was where Zuko’s memory ended.

Relief flooded him. Oh, thank the spirits. If they had done something unbelievably stupid last night, there was no way Sokka would’ve forgiven him.

Katara seemed to reach the same conclusion he had, for her shoulders relaxed, and he could see her letting out a breath, an awkward smile crossing her face.

“So…” she began.

“Yeah,” Zuko replied, clearing his throat. He rubbed a hand over his face, frowning slightly when his hand made contact with his scar.

Of course nothing had happened. There was no way.

“I have to get ready for work,” he grumbled, getting to his feet. Katara seemed to notice the change in his voice, but other than a slight tilt of her head, she said nothing, and just nodded.

“I should get ready for class,” she mused as well. Before she could get up, however, Zuko rushed into his room, snatched his towel, dashed across the hall, and slammed the bathroom door shut behind him in record time. Back in the living room, Katara huffed in irritation. “I  _do not_ take forever in the bathroom!”

“Yeah, right. And pigs don’t fly,” he replied dryly, smirking to himself when Katara growled curses at him, the sound of her voice trailing off as he heard her pad into the kitchen, presumably to start the coffee pot. Turning, he dropped his towel on top of the toilet cover before he shucked his pajama bottoms and boxers, turning on the shower.

Though he had to rush through his morning routine, he got to work just in time by some miracle, and even had a smile to offer Iroh when he encountered him.

“Morning, Uncle.”

“My my, good morning, my nephew,” Iroh replied, eyeing his nephew keenly as Zuko shrugged the strap of his briefcase higher onto his shoulder, intending to go to his office to handle the finances of his uncle’s import company. “What a smile. That is a rare occurrence. Did you manage to get a good night’s sleep last night?”

Zuko paused at that. As Iroh watched, interested, a hand came up to rub the back of Zuko’s suddenly flushed neck.

“I guess so,” was the only reply he offered before he was walking again, towards his office. Iroh smiled and drank deeply from his tea cup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh ho ho ho~
> 
> I can't wait for Iroh to meet Katara and thoroughly embarrass his nephew. >:3 It will be glorious~
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	7. Paper Thin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for things to get a liiiiiittle more heated.
> 
> Enjoy~<3
> 
> ~Reyna

Rare were the times where Zuko encountered interruptions to his sleep that were not nightmare-related. Sometimes he just fell asleep at his desk, and had to drag himself off to bed. Sometimes he just needed to pee.

But on those frustrating times where he was woken because his roommate was making entirely too much noise…

A muffled whine sounded through the wall, clear enough despite obvious attempts at smothering it. Forcefully, Zuko was dragged from slumber as it was followed by another, this one more high-pitched and not-quite stifled. He growled and grumbled, pushing the ends of his pillow against his ears. Goddamn Sokka–couldn’t he and Suki give it a rest for one fucking night?

At the next moan, Zuko reared up, ready to bang his fist against the wall and snap at them to cut it out–

“A-ah! Jet…”

Zuko froze.

Oh no.

Oh god.

How could he have forgotten? Sokka wasn’t even here right now–he was back home, assisting his father with his floundering fishing trade. And in his place…

“Mmm… _good_ …”

A telltale buzzing suddenly made itself known, and Zuko could feel himself flush from the roots of his hair all the way to the tips of his toes.

Oh god,  _no one had explained to Katara how thin these walls were._

Zuko knelt on his bed, gaping at the wall in horror, almost as if it was etching words of doom with every breathy gasp that passed through it.

What was he supposed to do?

Did he… _interrupt?_

Oh Agni, no. That would only embarrass them both. They were finally on regular good terms; he couldn’t go and muck that up now.

But to let her continue…wasn’t that, like… _eavesdropping?_

Zuko shuddered. He felt disgusting just at the thought. And Katara…she was like a little sister to him! Sure, he had accidentally walked in on Azula and a few of her lovers before–and he tried  _very hard_  to erase those memories from his mind after the fact–but with  _Katara_ …

“Jet,” she sighed again, and Zuko felt a flash of annoyance go through him. Was she still thinking about  _that_  jackass? The sex couldn’t have been  _that_  good, could it?

At her next moan, Zuko hastily grabbed his phone and shoved his earbuds in, turning the volume up as loud as it would go. Sure, it might give him permanent ear damage, but if it would drown out Katara, Zuko would take the hearing loss.

* * *

Zuko resolved to mention the thinness of the walls the next morning. But at the bright smile Katara flashed him over pancakes, he felt his resolve crumble to ash.

She mentioned that he looked a little tired. He blamed it on another nightmare, like the coward he was.

* * *

The next night her, uh…‘nighttime activities’ woke him up, Zuko was already reaching for his phone and earbuds.

It didn’t help. The thumping against his wall, while gentle, left little to the imagination of how, er… _pleased_ she was feeling at the moment. Zuko pulled out an earbud just to check that she was indeed alone in there, but the hastily stifled keening that greeted his ear was his punishment. He jammed the earbud back in, rolled over, and tried desperately to get back to sleep.

He did not succeed.

* * *

“You never seem to wake up in a good mood…maybe you should try some light exercises before bed. They might help you relax.”

Zuko thought about making a joke about all the ‘exercise’ Katara seemed to be getting lately, but he bit his tongue and focused on his coffee.

* * *

Was this going to be his existence now? Would he just be doomed to be permanently exhausted, caught between the rock that was his PTSD-induced nightmares, and the hard place that was Katara’s–wait, that didn’t come out right…

Zuko had to stifle a groan of his own as one passed through the wall, but while Katara was enjoying herself as usual, his was one of defeat. As he rolled over to reach for his phone, another torment added itself to the pile quite unexpectedly–

“A-ah…yes, Zuko…”

His hand froze. So did the rest of him.

He-he did  _not_  just hear that. It was his imagination. A hallucination brought on by exhaustion. There was  _no way_  that someone like  _Katara_  was–

“Oh!  _Harder,_ Zuko!”

Harder.

It was a command–Katara, in her imagination, was commanding him to go harder, to shove her against the pillows, the headboard as he rammed into her, her legs wrapped so tight around his waist that he might never get free, hands clutching at his arms, clawing at his back, mewling his name as she stared up at him with eyes darkened in lust–

Zuko felt something  _else_  grow harder at this command, and he felt something in his mind snap cleanly in two.

He was out of bed and pounding at her door before he knew it, before he even realized what he was doing. He snapped out of it at her yelp of surprise, her stutter that called back, “J-just a minute!”

_Shit._ What the hell was he doing?! What was he going to say??

Before he could figure it out, Katara was at the door, nervously pushing her loose hair from her face, a heated flush in her cheeks. Zuko looked down and immediately wished he hadn’t–her nightshirt was oversized, but he could still tell she wasn’t wearing bottoms by the way her thighs rubbed together.

As every expletive he’d ever heard of sounded off in his mind, Katara blinked up at him, plainly waiting for him to say something. But what could he say at a time like this?

“…Zuko?” She asked after a moment, tilting her head curiously. At her soft voice speaking his name, suddenly, words found themselves springing from Zuko’s lips.

“The wall,” he blurted out, gesturing stiffly towards it. Katara only blinked up at him, clearly uncomprehending. Cursing inwardly, Zuko struggled to say more. “So. Like. It’s there, but, it’s almost, like it’s not? Like, it’s thin. Like,  _really_  thin. So thin that it might as well not exist.”

He was babbling. Goddamn it, he was babbling. Shit, where was his eloquent uncle when he needed him?

…On second thought, he’d rather not let Uncle know about this incident…

Despite his nonsensical babble, after a moment, something seemed to click with Katara; thank god she was learning to speak his language. As Zuko watched, mortified in his own right, he witnessed her eyes go wide and her mouth fall open in horror, red flooding every inch of her face. …It was a good color on her.

“…oh,” she squeaked after a tense moment.

“Yeah…” Zuko mumbled, looking away awkwardly and rubbing the back of his neck. As the silence spiraled horribly, Zuko was struck by a sudden realization: he hadn’t come over here to interrupt Katara because she was making him uncomfortable. No, that wasn’t it. He had interrupted her for the sake of his  _sanity–_ if she had continued crooning his name that way as she brought herself ecstasy, all while imagining  _him_  there with her, then he would’ve–

The bulge in his pants twitched. Just noticing it, he hastily turned around and made to flee to his room.

“Zuko!”

He froze under her touch, under the grasp he could easily break or shake off if he tried. He didn’t. He stayed, his back to her, his heart racing, blood roaring in his ears.

Why did she always feel the need to touch him? And  _why oh why_  was it starting to have such a profound effect on him, like he would go to pieces if she kept contact with him for too long?

As if she sensed this, Katara let go of him. Zuko stayed where he was, listening to her shift listlessly behind him. He wished he could decipher her expression, but he was too embarrassed to look at her right now.

“…I’m sorry,” she mumbled at last, in the small voice from earlier.

Now Zuko  _did_  look at her, for the apology confused him–sorry? Sorry for what, exactly? What did she have to be sorry about?

She dropped her gaze from him as soon as he turned to look at her, chewing on her bottom lip, as if…

As if she was  _ashamed._

“It’s okay.”

Katara glanced up at him, obviously surprised. Zuko flushed at that. He hadn’t meant to say anything, because he wasn’t sure  _what_  to say, but it was obvious that he didn’t have control of his mouth tonight.

“…Really?” Katara asked, peering up at him, as if she was searching for something. Zuko turned back around so he wouldn’t be tempted to lean down and– _Agni,_  what was  _wrong_  with him?

‘ _She’s Sokka’s SISTER_ ,’ his mind reminded him none too gently. ‘ _Up until tonight, you were thinking of her as a little sister, too!_ ’

…Hm. Was that…actually true?

Yes, Zuko often made comparisons between her and Azula, where they were similar and where they differed, but…looking back, could he  _honestly_  say that he had only ever regarded her as a sister? Especially after  _tonight’s_  damning evidence?

Zuko swallowed. He could sort out his confusing feelings later; right now, Katara was waiting for an answer from him.

“Yeah,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants. He peeked at her from the corner of his eye, adding quietly, “I’m not mad.”

Katara shifted again, glancing at him and away, as if she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be looking at him. Her teeth were worrying her bottom lip again; Zuko had to remind himself not to focus on her lips.

“Then,” she began, speaking so quietly that Zuko almost couldn’t hear her, “do…do you want to–”

Oh no.

“Goodnight, Katara,” Zuko said gruffly, turning and marching stiffly back to his room.

Her soft “goodnight” was swallowed up a moment later by the slam of his door.

Zuko waited until he heard her door close before he let his legs give way, strangling his sigh in his throat before it had a chance to escape into the bedroom; that damn wall  _was_  still thin. Nevertheless, he grumbled to himself, hitting his head against his door as he slumped against it, the heels of his hands pressing into his eyes.

He was a fool. He was a  _goddamn fool._  True, there was no way he could’ve seen this coming, but if he had been smart, he would’ve said something that first morning after and put a stop to this whole thing. If he had only done that, he wouldn’t be sitting here right now with stiff shorts and a burning hunger that he could never satisfy.

And he  _couldn’t_ , he couldn’t, he just couldn’t. She was Sokka’s sister. And she had just gotten out of a bad relationship. And she was  _Katara._ There was all kinds of yellow tape that just could not be crossed. It was impossible.

And yet…

And yet…if Zuko had let Katara finish what she was going to ask him–if he had actually let her ask him to come to bed with her–he would’ve said yes. A resounding yes with no reservations.

The truth was out there and in the open: Katara wanted him.

And though Zuko so  _desperately_ wanted her too…he couldn’t have her.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, Zuko. Things are about to get...bumpy.
> 
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

**Author's Note:**

> There is more of this to come. Yeah, I know, it's not ML stuff, but I'll finish those eventually, and this indulgence is fun. I deserve to treat myself with self-indulgent fic every now and then~
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


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